


Aftermath

by fools_seldom_write



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Masturbation, Nazi Kink, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fools_seldom_write/pseuds/fools_seldom_write
Summary: Bernie Sanders has a lot of thoughts about the incident of nazi flags being displayed at his rally. Not all of them he would say out loud.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 12





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This is genuinely one of the worst things I've ever written. My dearest apologies to Bernie Sanders, who does not deserve any of this shit.

Of course he did not like nazi flags displayed at his rallies. Not just because he didn't like nazi flags in general, for obvious reasons. But that was supposed to be somewhat of a safe space, at his rallies surrounded by his supporters, a place where he was supposed to be sure that there wouldn't be any nazis there. The realization of how easy it was for anyone, but especially nazis, to infiltrate his rallies, was a harsh one. And he didn't even really see the whole thing, because there had been others who were quick to act, and he was thankful for that.

He watched the video at home. The sight of a swastika being waved so close to him, in a space that was supposed to be his, and with nothing he would've been able to do about it - it was certainly something. It was mocking him. And with every loop of the video he felt more powerless and defeated.

He wasn't surprised at all when he felt himself getting hard. That was nothing new.

He sighed, locked the door, and pulled out a chest from underneath the bed. It was the most private thing he owned, with not even his wife knowing its content, and he was glad she didn't. It was already a miracle he was able to admit it to himself, that some sick, perverted part of him liked it. It would be too shameful to ever say out loud.

He had captured it from some nazi punks decades ago, like a soldier capturing the flag of the enemy. He had wanted to rip it apart, burn it, destroy it. A symbol for everything that was wrong with the world, what else could you do?

He laid it down on the ground carefully. He felt a little sick just at the sight, memories of his childhood pushing their way to the forefront of his mind, and he was overwhelmed by what the wielders of such flags had done to his family, would have done to him if they had the opportunity.

He knelt down in front of it. Like someone praying in front of a cross, only he was a Jew kneeling before a swastika, his blood boiling from the anger and helplessness he felt. He hated himself for not having destroyed it. Hated himself for having protected it for so many years, hidden it right under the place he slept most nights, like he had taken the concept of a guardian angel and turned it into something evil.

He blinked away his tears as he opened his pants and reached for his dick. He wondered how those nazis at his rally would've reacted if they had known how often he had masturbated over those very flags they were bringing to intimidate him. If they had known how effective it was. He took the pain and turned it into something even more ugly, even more wretched and disgusting, because it was the only way he knew how to deal with it at all.

What a pathetic excuse of a Jew, he thought to himself as he stroked his cock, eyes focused on the swastika in front of him. You want the nazis to harass you, don't you? No matter how much you condemn them, you'll never be able to deny the part of you that just loves it, just can't get enough of it.

He halted his movements for a second, closed his eyes to keep the tears from falling. Pathetic excuse of a Jew, his mind kept repeating back to him. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that he wasn't finished yet.

It was worse that he had to force himself to do it. That he couldn't just shut off his brain and let his body do like normally - that was what this was for, after all. So he didn't have to think about it.

But this was so abnormal that he had to consciously control every movement of his fingers, hyper-aware of what he was doing the whole time, and there was no way he could ignore it, or pretend it didn't mean anything.

It meant everything. If getting off at the sight of a swastika didn't define him, he didn't know what could. What could ever say more about him than this?

His tears made it worse, but everything that made it worse just made it better. Knowing that something that devastated him so much also turned him on brought a whole new wave of humiliation and he moaned quietly, fastening his rhythym, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the flag.

He turned away when he came. Couldn't risk staining the flag, how ironic when that was what got him off in the first place, but staining it would mean that he had any kind of power over it, and he needed it to be the other way around. He needed to feel powerless and defeated, pathetic enough that he didn't even manage to overcome a simple piece of cloth. The flag stained him, not the other way around.

Catching his breath, he kept staring at it, feeling more and more disgusted with himself as the seconds dragged on and the fog lifted from his mind. He couldn't bear looking at it anymore but he couldn't bear touching it to put it away either, especially when he hadn't even washed his hands, but how could he ever unlock the door and go to the bathroom with that flag still lying there for anyone to see?

He tucked away his dick, leaned against the bed and started crying.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally published anonymously and stayed that way for several months. After some consideration, though, I decided that compared to other things I have written, some of which I have published unanonymously, and will write in the future, it's not that bad. People already hate me for writing problematic things, and I don't think this fic will have a significant impact on the way people view me.


End file.
